


Oct. 28th, “Enough! I Heard Enough.”

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Fictober 2019 once more!This was inspired by the (I would guess, somewhat exaggerated at times) bickering that went on with the band during the making of Hot Space.
Kudos: 18





	Oct. 28th, “Enough! I Heard Enough.”

Ignoring the various random arguments that somewhat naturally broke out over the course of recording and readying an album was an art form, and one that Freddie was normally good at. 

Today, however, was a breaking point.

John and Brian had spent the majority of the day in arguments that led into arguments that led into yet other sorts of arguments, and it seemed never-ending. It was draining, even if both did have their moments of making a good point or two. 

Now, it had devolved to each of them on opposite sides of the room, tossing peanuts, picks, pens, and at once point a set of maracas at each other at random, all while glaring, as if they couldn’t bear to not be arguing, so frustrated were they with each other over the direction of the record. 

“Enough! I have heard enough!” he sighed loudly, dramatically, hoping it would be enough to shake them up and shut down their nonsense.

“We aren’t saying anything!” Brian protested. 

“No, you’re just acting like children, throwing things and glaring and just making the whole room feel horrible! How on earth can we finish the fucking album with you two acting like this?” 

“Same way we’ve finished any other album where we were rowing over it,” John replied. 

Brian instantly mimicked him, in the whiniest voice Freddie had ever heard. It was grating.

Roger gave a frustrated moan and flopped from his chair onto the floor dramatically. “Freddie…make them stop.” 

“You’re just as capable of talking to them as I am!” 

“I’ve tried!” Roger insisted.

“What you’ve done is tried to catch the things they’ve been throwing, and making a game of it!” 

“They aren’t hitting each other then, so that’s still helping!” Roger argued.

Freddie sighed. At this rate, this particular recording session was going to feel like a fucking eternity. “Let’s run through something, hm? If you’re playing, you can’t toss shit at each other.” 

They weren’t even fully into the first verse of their latest piece before Brian had tossed his pick at John. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Freddie spat, and retrieved the pick, pushing it into Brian’s hand.

“He’s too close to me; I need space to play!” Brian protested. “I was just letting him know that!” 

“By throwing the thing you need to play at him?” 

Brian shrugged, an innocent look on his face.

“I am not too close to you! If anything, you’re too close to me, you-” 

“Hush,” Freddie interrupted John. “You two just listen. Be as mad at each other as you want, alright? But every time you toss something or just generally fuck with one another, I’m making you take a step closer together.” 

“And what will that accomplish, exactly?” Roger asked. 

“Either they’ll stop because they can’t bear to be that close, since they can barely manage being in the same room, or they’ll end up close enough to throttle each other and we’ll all get a break while they go to hospital,” Freddie replied. “Time will tell. Let’s go again.” 

“You can’t treat us like children,” John said sullenly. 

“Really? Stop acting like them, then,” Freddie snapped. “Roger, go on. Count us in.” 

“Hey! He’s ri-” Brian cut himself off, and dropped his head, clearly fuming at having nearly agreed with John. 

“If you don’t stop, and this doesn’t calm you both down, then I swear I’ll find a way to tie you two together,” Freddie replied. “Roger? Please?” 

They made it all the way to verse two before John suddenly started shouting, about something Freddie couldn’t hear over the music, but he was turned to Brian, bass hanging as he gesticulated about whatever Brian had managed to do to upset him. 

Freddie said nothing, just grabbed John by the arm, and forced him to take another step closer to Brian. 

They gaped, as if it was an act of the most audacity they’d ever seen. 

“Let’s keep going!” Freddie said, forcefully cheerful.

Barely into verse two, and Brian darted past him to “accidentally” jab John in the side with the neck of his practice guitar, nearly tripping him with his cord in the process. 

“Three steps for nearly taking me out as well,” Freddie said briskly, gently shoving Brian closer to John as soon as he was again at his usual distance from him. 

“Three? That isn’t fair!” Brian pouted.

“You had to walk all the way over to bother him! You want to be so damn close to him, well, now you are!” 

John and Brian both started up at that, shouting over each other at Freddie, while Roger drooped in his seat, bored of the circus. 

It was the absolute limit for Freddie.

“This is…admittedly unorthodox a punishment..” he panted as he stepped away from his handiwork a few moments later, tossing aside the now empty roll of duct tape that had been sitting near Brian’s amp, left by one of the techs for who knew what purpose. It hardly mattered now, as it had a new purpose.

In front of Roger stood John and Brian, taped together with only their arms free so they could hold their instruments, both fuming like cats caught in a downpour with no shelter.

“And how the fuck are we supposed to play like this?” John asked. “Have you gone mad?” 

“Figure it out. You brought this upon yourselves,” Freddie replied. “Ready, Roger?” 

But Roger was gone, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, nearly falling off of his seat. 

“Alright then, Roger will come in when he’s able to. Brian, John, if one of you want to-” 

With a mighty thud, they both went down, wriggling to try and free themselves from the swathes of duct tape around their middles. 

Freddie rescued their instruments from the floor before they could risk any more damage, and watched the show while Roger cackled, finally toppling off his seat and onto the floor with a thud of his own. 

There were only another few moments of arguing and thrashing about before they both stopped. 

“This is…fucking ridiculous,” Brian giggled. “Oh my god, what are we doing?” 

“I don’t know,” John replied with a laugh. “How the fuck did this happen?” 

“Hi,” Freddie chirped, raising a hand. “Shall I play back the last hour of arguing you two did? Because it was me and that, what did this to you. But by god, I’ve found a foolproof method for getting you to stop arguing. Shame it takes so much tape though…what do you think Rog? I could patent this.” 

Roger was breathless, still giggling on the floor. “This…is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life. When I can stand again, I’m getting a camera so I can capture this moment. Put that on a t-shirt for the fans, maybe.” 

The picture never did make it onto a shirt, but a copy of it did hang in their dressing room, following them from city to city on the tour for Hot Space. It was both a reminder and a threat whenever any argument came up. 

Though Freddie was quite happy not to have to tape anyone else together for the sake of conflict resolution. The once had been funny, but once was enough.


End file.
